


Heist Prevention

by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)



Series: Swingersverse [3]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, One Night Stands, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Trust Kink, established shinichi/ran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5041087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/pseuds/Asuka%20Kureru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The disguise Kid had chosen was light -- no mask today. Mostly, he'd sharpened his cheekbones, made his skin two shades darker, and thickened his eyebrows. (Oh, and added a goatee and the distracting edge of a badly done neck tattoo.) The end result wasn't so much Kuroba Kaito at thirty as, perhaps, Kuroba Kaito's once removed yakuza uncle... Or some unrelated stranger who happened to share a passing resemblance with someone else if you squinted the right way, which happened commonly enough as to be worth zero notice.</p><p>"Hi, Shinichi! Undercover again?" whispered a cheerful feminine voice in his ear, as two small but strong hands grabbed his upper arm like a vise.</p><p>--</p><p>Third story in the Swingers 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heist Prevention

**Author's Note:**

> jesus i have been slowly chiselling away at this fic for *four years*. it's really not such a complicated fic to have left me stumped so long. what gives, self??? maybe it's the het thing. :(

The disguise Kid had chosen was light -- no mask today. Mostly, he'd sharpened his cheekbones, made his skin two shades darker, and thickened his eyebrows. (Oh, and added a goatee and the distracting edge of a badly done neck tattoo.) The end result wasn't so much Kuroba Kaito at thirty as, perhaps, Kuroba Kaito's once removed yakuza uncle... Or some unrelated stranger who happened to share a passing resemblance with someone else if you squinted the right way, which happened commonly enough as to be worth zero notice.

"Hi, Shinichi! Undercover again?" whispered a cheerful feminine voice in his ear, as two small but strong hands grabbed his upper arm like a vise.

Of course Kid knew that his favorite Meitantei was due to come to the heist tonight. But he also knew that Kudo had come to Osaka alone. And since tonight's heist was unrelated to the Suzuki corporation...

He blinked at Mouri-san, met her bright, sharp-toothed grin with one of his own. What was she _doing_ here? "Heh. You caught me."

"That I did," she replied, her smile melting into a forbidding, 'don't you try to play me' scowl.

She blocked her nose and mouth before his sleeping gas could get to her, but she'd had to let go with one hand to manage that, and that was good enough for him; in the next second he had twisted free and dodged under her scything blind grab. He slipped a rose in her cleavage on the way down and skittered away toward the nearest exit.

Would have been much easier if she had swallowed that he might actually be Shinichi for even one second, but apparently he'd been caught out before he even noticed her. Smarter to just cut his losses and regroup. It was a bit early into the heist for unexpected happenstances -- Kudo-kun wasn't even on the premises yet! -- but that was okay, he had lots of contingency plans.

She was still on his heels when he risked a quick glance back, her eyes narrowed in outraged determination. Alright, so that way was a cluster of small offices and briefing rooms, arranged on a grid pattern of identical corridors; wouldn't be hard to lose her -- right, left, left, another right...

He kept on thinking that until he slowed down to open a door, and saw her grab onto a decorative little wall curlicue and let her momentum fling her around the corner, annihilating his head start.

Ghhhk. On second thought, maybe he shouldn't have provoked her with the rose in cleavage trick. Smoke bombs, smoke bombs, where were his smoke bombs -- aha!

Mouri-san hurtled out of the smoke and shoulder-checked a secretary, twirling them both around. "Sorry!" she called with a touch of anxiety, already turning away. "Did you see where--"

The secretary pointed toward the leftward turn of the next corridor, chignon askew, eyes wide and confused.

"Thank you!"

Phew.

Behind Kid, flat-heeled shoes skidded to a stop on the wooden floor. "-- _Wait a minute!_ "

Kid hitched up his skirt and started running again. In retrospect the white patent leather shoes had been a bit obvious... Like he was going to switch to stilettos in the middle of a chase! He couldn't help but laugh a little as he raced down the corridors. Okay, so this point of entrance was ruined. Good job, lady.

He somersaulted over two guardrails and the ten-meter deep drop in between. She followed without even slowing down. And they were starting to attract a lot of attention. "The heist isn't even officially started yet!" he yelled over his shoulder. "The little detectives would be very sorry to miss it!"

"So then maybe we'll all go home early!" she snapped back, and leaped over the food cart he'd shoved at her legs.

Aheh. Looked like he wasn't going to lose her on flat ground. Alright then. One exit through the false ceiling coming right up.

Turn into next corridor. Jump, kick off the wall, kick off the _other_ wall, shove the previously unscrewed grate off the hole, grab the edge on the way down -- swing weight forward once, swing back -- _pull up_! He felt her fingers skim against his bare calf as he surged through the opening, and then he was up in the false ceiling, weight balanced on his hands. Tucking his head into his chest, he rolled forward and landed in a deep crouch at the foot of a vertical air vent, all a continuation of the same smooth movement. And now it was just a matter of standing up in the vent -- he didn't even have to climb to reach the grate that opened onto the roof proper, just another grab and heave and there he was, roofs and chimneys and water tanks and the wind ruffling his hair.

Maybe he ought to change out of the secretary's skirt.

"--Ow," came out of the air vent, along with the dull thwack of a head bumping against plaster.

Then came the metallic _squeak, squeak_ of someone unused to traveling via false ceiling on hands and knees and making it shudder in rhythm. Kid hastily yanked off bits and pieces of his disguise as he dashed across the roof. Hang glider hang glider _shit_ no time -- he kicked off the very edge of the roof, throwing himself as far as he could to clear the gap between the two buildings.

He landed with a hand keeping his top hat in place, cape fluttering behind him. Before him, a glass pyramid -- the skylight which tipped several stories of void surrounded by indoor balconies and open-sided corridors, and the Tear of Jakarta straight underneath.

Of course the straight drop was chock-full of nearly invisible nets, in case he felt like going in the fast way. The only reason there were no cops up here was that they hoped he'd be unable to resist jumping head first into the deliciously risky trap.

"IYAAH!"

He should have bounced straight up the glass slope and taken flight from the top of the pyramid. Instead a what-if flash of Mouri-san not _quite_ clearing the gap whirled him around on the spot, hand already going for his grappling gun.

For the fraction of a second he watched her fly straight toward him, she reminded him of Aoko, coming at him like an avalanche of righteous, unstoppable wrath.

Complete with sudden, painful impact in the rare occasion he was stupid enough to let himself get distracted. _Oof_. He landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him first by the impact with the roof and then by her sudden crushing weight on his stomach.

From the yelp she let out upon landing, she wasn't unscathed either. By the time he opened his eyes again she had leaned forward, though, pinned his wrists to the roof, and was staring down at him with a triumphant, vindicated glare.

The rose was still caught in her cleavage. Laughing, he reared up, attempted to flip her over. As expected of a martial artist, she held his wrists precisely where she could pin them the best, without getting in range of his fingers. Flexible he might be but his joints didn't bend _quite_ that far, and whether by design or accident she was keeping several tricks of his pinned up his sleeves where he couldn't get at them.

Well then. Time to change tactics.

"Fancy meeting you here, Mouri-san." He let his appreciative smile widen a little more, sneaked the rose a quick, obvious glance, and arched an eyebrow. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

She was flushed from her run, but made a valiant attempt to blush a little more, and glowered down at him. "If you think I'm going to let go and hit you just so you can gas me...!"

"Ah well." He smoothed the laughter in his voice, made it softer, caressing, added a hint of an intimate purr. "I suppose there are worse fates than being brought down by such a tenacious adversary."

Her face was close, long dark hair cascading every which way, isolating them, veiling the rest of the roof away. Her lips parted in shock and he didn't even have to fake gazing at them.

"You -- you're attempting to _seduce_ me into letting you go?" she asked, incredulous, and not relaxing her hold at all. He felt her fingers twitch tighter, actually.

"Giving me ulterior motives, my lady? Perhaps I am merely attempting to seduce you."

Heh. As if that'd work; she and his Meitantei were practically joined at the hip. He had to admit it was a surprisingly nice fantasy, though. Stubborn, fierce, pretty, _and_ she'd bested him at his own game. Granted, that was because he hadn't been taking her as seriously as he should have. He wasn't going to make that mistake twice.

"... Why aren't you trying to buck me off?" Her frown turned quizzical as she scanned what she could see of his face. "I'm not that heavy."

"Well." He couldn't help snickering there, giving her a white, bright smile. "You _are_ straddling my hips. It would be very ungentlemanly."

Her cheeks reddened again at the implication -- Kid arching under her, brutally lifting his hips off the ground as she sat on him.

She was wearing a rather short skirt, ruffled up her legs. He was growing more aware of her bare thighs against his sides by the second.

Granted, the contact between his groin and her, ah, _behind_ wouldn't last a second before they started rolling around on the ground, attempting to wrestle each other into submission... He breathed a little deeper, stubbornly keeping a faint, amused smile affixed to his face as he watched the same thought make its way through her mind.

Shock, lips parted. Another hot blush, up to the tips of her ears and down her neck...

... Pupils growing huge, until only a narrow circle of blue was left of her irises.

Oh.

He wasn't imagining that. It wasn't so dark on the roof -- the sun was coming down, but taking its time about it, and her hair wasn't that much of a barrier to the sunset.

One of them should have blinked, smirked or scowled, or joked, or gone 'are you kidding me?' but their eyes caught, held on a second too long -- and then two seconds and then three and...

"I never thought you were much of a gentleman anyway," she said, and that quiet, breathless voice undid him.

He reared up, twisted his wrists free -- gave himself a nice Indian burn as well, but never mind that -- reversed their grasp. Kissed her.

He shouldn't have, he knew he shouldn't have, but she was so unexpectedly tempting, and then she bit him and growled in his mouth and kissed back and for a few seconds he forgot to feel guilty.

They both froze there, staring into each other's eyes.

The wind picked up, sending her hair flying around their faces; his top hat, already dislodged by his prior position on his back, went rolling off on the roof. Her eyes tracked the hat automatically, her hand snatching for it. _His_ hand rose, covered her eyes before she could look back at him -- gently, gently.

She could have pushed it off with a quick shake of her head, but she didn't move, holding the top hat against her chest, allowing his gloved hand to rest against her closed eyes. Her lips were parted, as if waiting, hesitating on the edge of another kiss.

He shouldn't, they shouldn't, it was bad ( _Meitantei_ ), and the heist would start soon...

"Do -- um, do you want -- you could blindfold me."

He couldn't keep his immediate groan between his teeth. The mental image of her, blinded of her own will, her own acceptance, putting herself in his hands because she knew he couldn't risk putting himself in hers -- and the way it would focus his attention on her lips, make her seem both more mysterious in expression and more vulnerable...

He surged up, kissed her again, the top hat caught between them and threatening to fold up flat. She sighed, eyelashes fluttering against his gloved palm, opened her mouth to him; she let the hat go when he tugged it free. With a breathless chuckle -- less amusement than incredulous anticipation -- he dropped it on her head, tilted the brim down so she could see nothing but his chin and the hand leaving her eyes for his own collar.

"Are you sure, Mouri-san?" he asked in a whisper, a finger hooked in the knot of his tie.

She didn't answer in words, just gave a faint nod. The tie slithered free in his hands with the barest of tugs. He looped it around her head, cautious, smoothed her hair so it wouldn't pull.

A blindfold had somewhat of the same effect, to him, as someone _almost_ naked, in a towel or perhaps nothing but a shirt. A tease, a mystery just out of reach, for him to imagine and not to _know_. But then there was the vulnerability, too, the trust. Of course she had much less to lose than he would in the opposite situation, of course she already knew he wouldn't allow harm to come to her or anyone, he'd proved it before -- but still, still, it was...

With just about anyone the gesture might have caught him right in the pit of his stomach all the same, left him breathless and absurdly humbled. But then there were the aesthetic considerations, too.

He ducked under the brim, brushed his lips against hers once, then deepened it, slow and languorous, exploring. She sighed quietly in his mouth and relaxed against him, slid her arms around his neck, her fingers carding through the shorter hairs at the back of his head.

When he broke the kiss he got to stare at her parted, flushed lips for all of two seconds before they curved up into a smile that did its best to evade her attempts to smother it.

"Hee. Now you'll never trick me again. You don't kiss the same way as Shinichi at all."

Kid gave a dry chuckle, smothered a prickle of guilt. She didn't sound awkward at all, and he couldn't imagine that she would be the kind of girl to cheat, to hurt the person she loved (yet here she was, so... instinct or logic? Logic or instinct? Desire weighed in, and unsurprisingly it sided with instinct.)

"That would mean you'll have to kiss me every time you have the slightest doubt." A pause, his pride in his acting ability pushing him along. "And possibly even when you don't. To make sure."

She arched her back, her hips rolling forward when he curved his hands around them to tease the small of her back. "Ah. Well. That does -- does sound like a good idea."

Gratified by the distraction in her voice, he smirked against her chin. "Well, Meitantei-kun should be suitably grateful for that. I hope he won't begrudge me the times where he does turn out to be me."

She laughed at that, giggled really, still no guilt -- and that red cloth across her eyes, around her dark hair, and he'd always been weak against temptation.

"Mouri-san?" He leaned in, still drinking her in, breathing against her mouth. "How far--"

"He'll be fine as long as we send him photographic evidence," she replied smartly, cheeks flushing far enough down to show past the blindfold and lips quirking up in a small, absolutely sincere grin.

Kid pretended _really hard_ that earnest, steadfast, upright, _easily flustered_ Mouri Ran hadn't sent him reeling with that one.

"Well." He swallowed. "I am -- nothing if not a showman, milady. Home video...?"

Ran burst into flustered giggles, shoved at his shoulders, not seriously; he kissed her again. Again and again, starting off slow and cautious and picking up speed, depth. Desire.

(He might have been forced to forfeit if she had agreed to the video. Good lord.)

She couldn't see what he was about to do, she couldn't see a thing, and it was so tempting in so many ways that he didn't know how to start. He wished he had hours to tease her with feathers, ice cubes, anything he could get his hands on; she would react so beautifully.

He broke away from the kiss to watch her, silent, gone still. She let him, head tilted as if staring back, even though she couldn't. At some point the hat had tumbled off, and her hair fluttered across the red blindfold, across her pale cheeks.

"Gorgeous," he whispered, breath hot against her cheek.

She ran her fingertips up his still-clothed arms, lightly, feeling the width of his biceps, the line of his shoulders, learning his shape by touch. (He was glad she kept to the outside of his arms, where there was nothing to trigger.) When her fingers brushed his face he stopped breathing briefly, shivered. She traced his jaw, the slope of his nose, and still he kept watching her, his eyelashes batting against her hands like captive butterflies.

Another kiss, and he was hard against her, her skirt tenting across his lap.

He found the first button on her blouse, paused; she gave a faint, shy nod. Second, third, all the way down.

He left her blouse on, shadowing her skin, masking the edges of her waist. Her bra was a simple sports model; clasps in front.

He paused with his hands under her breasts; she'd gone a bit tense, shuffled her weight on his thighs, squeezed her knees. (He wanted to be inside her already.)

"Mouri-san...?"

"Ah, I just. You can touch my breasts," she said with roughness born from both annoyance and arousal, and took his wrists to guide them there. He fit his gloved hands on their curves, gave an experimental, light squeeze. Her breathing sped up. "We're on the roof. Is all. And I -- I didn't pay attention to, to the lines of sight and --"

Ah. "There are none," he assured her in a whisper, and then, because he could, smiling against her cheek, "though if a squad of policemen shows up rest assured I will whisk you to safety straight away. Why, your modesty is paramount."

Her nipples pebbled under his hands; the hold of her knees tightened with a suddenness that made his erection jump.

She liked it. The idea of being caught in the act, or of being kidnapped? The first one fit somewhat better with the blindfold -- voluntary loss of awareness, though there was the aspect of placing herself in his hands ...

He unhooked her bra, didn't touch her bare skin yet. Just, suddenly he didn't want her half-naked, he wanted her utterly bare but for her hidden eyes, right here under the sky.

She let her blouse and bra fall down her arms, dropped them behind her on Kid's knees. The skirt was unhooked with elegant, faintly shaky fingers, and then she was standing up, perfectly steady even without her vision, letting it fall down her long, shapely legs.

Panties. White. Some tasteful lace. The kind chosen because someone she hoped would appreciate them might see (Meitantei) but not especially designed to seduce.

Fingers slipping under the straps.

"Allow me," he rasped out, and shifted onto his knees.

She gave a long shudder. "Anything."

He tugged his gloves off, slipped his fingers in beside hers, guided the panties down with slow reverence, letting his fingertips brush a long line down the outside of her thighs, her knees, her calves. She stepped out of them automatically (like she'd done it with someone else, like someone else had done it for her, often enough for it to become habit) and he curved his hands around her ankles, gazing up at her. Her skin had gone gold and fire from the sunset.

(The heist clock ticked into his head, but it was not time yet, he still had time to afford it, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he hurried now.)

He leaned in to press a kiss to the top of her thigh. Her pubic hair was trimmed neat; she didn't shave. Wetness glistened there.

He wanted to make an evening dew joke. He didn't think he'd forgive himself for that one either.

He caught her hips and pulled her in toward his mouth, kissed her there, black hair tickling his face.

The noise leaving her throat was surprisingly rough, low -- straight from her guts. She rocked against him once and then brought herself to a forceful, shaky stop. "Oh lord." Her hands rose, felt his hair carefully.

"You can pull," he whispered against her skin, and kissed the start of her cleft. It wasn't like his hair could get any messier, and he wanted --

Her fingers tightened, tugged as she wobbled to balance herself, and he groaned against her clitoris, mouth open to taste her.

When his tongue pushed between her folds he had to hold her up, hands going up to squeeze at the underside of her ass, or she would have fallen. He groaned when she did pull on his hair, when she whimpered, thighs quivering around his jaw. He licked her until she -- moaned, mewled, something soft and lilting and going sharp toward the end, and then he guided her down, let her slide down his body. Her arms draped around his neck; she rested her cheek against his jaw, breathing fast.

"Please," she murmured, and he could feel her lips open again, onto more words that never made it out. " _Please--_ "

"Inside you?" Kid whispered in her ear; she nodded, pressed her face against his shoulder. It took barely a nudge to guide her up onto her knees so he could get at his own lap, free himself, and then she was sinking back onto him with a belly-deep sigh, and. Oh.

He forgot to look at her for a moment, forgot to keep an eye out for interruptions, forgot anything that wasn't the tight, warm clench of her all around his erection

"--Condoms," he remembered, too late.

Ran groaned, laughed, breathless. "Oops. I'm on the pill."

"And I'm not--" sick with anything, he started to say, but she rocked on him and tightened her inner muscles, and he forgot.

"Shh. It's too late anyway. I'll bill you for my treatment," she added, giggling with her own daring, and Kid mock-grumbled at her, nipped her bare shoulder.

(He thought, briefly, that he was celibate at the moment and she was the one who definitely wasn't, but that -- crass, and uncalled for, and not all that funny.)

"--Kid?"

"Shh," he said, and kissed her, because it was not something he wanted to think about when he had a gorgeous woman on his lap, entrusting herself entirely to him.

They kissed for a while, rocking slowly together, her hands fisted tight in his jacket, crumpling the impeccable line of it, his hands trailing up and down the bare, dampening skin of her back, feeling the fine muscles and smooth skin and all the ways she twitched and shivered and fought not to squirm.

Voices rose over the rooftops and he flipped them over, mouth still pressed to hers, let the cape spill over the both of them. She shuddered under him and he chuckled against her mouth, feeling alive with adrenaline. "Shh. Two roofs down." Not any of the cops he knew, the good ones, used to his tricks. Casual tones, too. They didn't suspect a thing.

He pushed himself deeper even so, sped up. Her black hair spilled all over the pale cement of the rooftop, the blindfold on her face, her long stretches and curves of exposed skin. He couldn't help but push himself up on his hands to watch her more, watch the way her breasts rocked with each thrust, the way her teeth dug into her lip, fighting to keep her moans in.

Waiting until he felt her come all around him, until he heard that hitched, strangled breath from her and her back arched off the roof -- that tested his discipline worse than waiting for the right moment to go for a gemstone did. But he needed -- wanted -- _needed_ to be a good lover, treat her right, make sure she wouldn't (think he was selfish (he was)) (think he wasn't as good as --) -- she wouldn't, wouldn't, he was resisting with all his strength and then she reached for him, arms open, blind and still offered, and she said "Kid!" like she was desperate and he was gone, pleasure exploding out with no chance of holding it back.

"'m I squashing you?" he mumbled into her neck, and she only drew him in tighter, gave a long, humming sigh.

"No. S'good. Stay."

Kaito stayed.

Kaito shouldn't have stayed because she was someone else's girlfriend no matter that the boyfriend didn't apparently mind -- sex okay, but affection might -- but she was warm and a great cuddler and he was slowly slipping out from inside her as he softened, and he wanted to hold onto every greedy second he could steal from this.

So warm. He could fall asleep like this, right here on the roof, right on her.

"... The blindfold is starting to itch," Mouri-san said, voice apologetic, and he sat up between her white thighs.

He should... probably go, now.

He should do that. He touched her shoulder a last time and then stood, stepped out from between her knees, his eyes still glued to her. She was bathed in sunset lights and the fist streetlamps -- pale prickling flesh, dark strands flying everywhere, crisscrossing her shoulders, her breasts, as she sat up and moved unthinkingly into perfect seiza. Beautiful.

Still blindfolded.

"Ah," she said, and felt around to the side where Kid's top hat waited, resting on its bottom, picked it up to hold it toward him with both hands. "You should probably... Before I take it off, I mean."

He buttoned his pants back up with a twitch of embarrassment, pulled his gloves back on, fixed his clothes with a few quick tugs, and finally pulled the monocle out of his pocket where he'd had no time to get it between changing out of the secretary getup and Mouri Ran falling on him.

Pushed the hat back toward her, gently, with his fingertips.

"A fairly-won trophy, my lady."

"--Oh." She held it against her chest, the way she'd done earlier, and if he hadn't just come -- it was an image that would stick with him a while. "But won't you--"

"I've got more," he admitted, not wanting her to assume he was giving more than he was. "I will have to insist on getting my tie back, though."

He leaned in, started picking at the knot with cautious fingers, watching her smile, watching her blink the fuzziness out of her eyes. She looked up at him and he knew it wasn't so dark she couldn't see the edges of his face under the new hat he was now sporting, his once-again impeccable costume.

He felt strange, being so completely dressed when she wasn't, being so _aware_ of it, and not in the same way as earlier. Now that the desire had abated it was the intimacy of it that struck harder.

"Mouri-san--"

She picked up her bunched-up clothes with one hand, awkwardly, and he was lunging to catch her cell phone in the next second.

"Oh, sorry--"

"No problem, here--"

Only when he dropped it into her palm his fingers brushed against the screen, and she did not apparently believe in locking phones.

 _Photographic evidence_ , indeed.

"I think," Kaito said somehow without choking, as he stared in helpless horror at the open email under his eyes, "I think maybe you should consider phone security more seriously."

Mouri-san had gone pink. She reached up again for her phone, clothes pressed against her breasts to hide. "You're totally right, and I will, but--"

Kaito dropped the offending object into her grasp, and knew he was going a little bit shrill, and couldn't help it. "Because I don't think you fully grasp the security concerns in--"

"Kid-san, _the heist!_ "

... Six minutes past eight.

"Oh _shit_."

Mouri-san burst into giggles, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Go, go, what are you waiting for!"

He started to turn around, hesitated. She had looked so vulnerable only thirty seconds ago; he was still reeling. "But you're still naked--"

"So you'll have until I get dressed as a head start!" she said back, and pulled her top on over her head without bothering with the bra. "Go and see if Shinichi and his friends are here yet and if they won't chase you I will!"

Meitantei. Her boyfriend. And Hakuba Saguru. The young man her boyfriend had apparently...

Wait, hadn't Meitantei-kun been staying at Tantei-han's place. ... And he was only getting later! That whisper under him, was it the disappointed crowd? "Oh my god," Kid said as he turned to run up the glass pyramid. "Oh my god I am blaming you forever for this."

"I'm putting my skirt on!" she sang threateningly.

"I'm going, I'm going!"

He went.

\--

Try as he may not even the heist made him stop wondering what kind of photographic evidence Mouri Ran's personal detective would consider equivalent to Hakuba Saguru: Erotic Woodblock Print Version.


End file.
